The Tea Fumes Are Getting to Me...
by Subspace Butterfly
Summary: Hoshi discovers just how much one can learn from a mind-meld. (A/N revised) (Chapter 2 & 3 up)
1. Part One- A Mind Meld...

Codes: R/S (M/H), shippage  
  
Author's notes: The title comes into play in the third chapter. Be patient!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Paramount, not me. (Like TPTB would ever care enough to sue a fanfic author…)  
  
Chapter One  
  
"Your thoughts... to my thoughts...your mind...to my mind. Yanamo nahp wanamo nahp, Yanamo kae kashek wanamo kashek."  
  
The frothy, seething oceans of a possessed mind roared in protest. Repetitive whispers floated over the surface of the seas; soothing words seemed to form of calm itself. The water quieted. "Yanamo nahp wanamo nahp, Yanamo kae kashek wanamo kashek."  
  
A minute later, T'Pol withdrew her hands from the communications officer's temples. Hoshi was quiet for a moment, her eyes unseeing. Her heart beat so slowly, and she was filled with such an unthinkable calm; but the calm was nothing more than an almost complete absence of thought itself. On the other side of the small rug they were sitting on, gazing into a small, flickering candle, was T'Pol. Her breath came quickly, but almost noiselessly, through her nose in an attempt to conceal her moment of uncontrol. Hoshi's mind was unbearably tumultuous, and she wondered again how humans could possibly deal with these thoughts. How they were still sane.  
  
Hoshi blinked and returned to thought. T'Pol looked slightly flustered, staring into the candle's flame like that, and she wondered uncomfortably what this emotionless being thought of her mind. They had reached the end of their session for tonight, and Hoshi wondered what to say.  
  
"Thank you, T'Pol," she finally decided.  
  
Arching her eyebrow (a gesture which Hoshi had all but stopped noticing, she had seen it so many times), T'Pol spoke with a voice that belied no weakness. "You are welcome, Ensign. You will be coming tomorrow night as well?"  
  
It barely seemed a question. Hoshi nodded, unclasping her hands and rising to her feet. "See you tomorrow."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
There was a peculiar feeling that settled on Hoshi after these sessions. It was a feeling of looking at oneself from the outside, and wondering if this all was just an elaborate dream. She found herself wondering such unanswerable- no, unaskable- questions as whether she was just the feverish imagining of a creature of infinitely greater mental complexity than herself. Or a figment of her own imagination. It was an inspiring feeling.  
  
Once in her quarters, she paced restlessly. From the bathroom- standing in front of a Starfleet issue mirror for ten minutes straight, feeling like her consciousness was coming in waves- to the bed, lying flat staring into the ceiling, flashes of images receding and advancing, images from fantasies. Eventually she drifted to the desk next to the door. She was inspired to write- a poem. The Vulcan language, she thought, was beautiful...she began to write. 


	2. Part Two- ...A Poem...

The Tea Fumes are Getting to Me…  
  
Part 2/3  
  
by Subspace Butterfly  
  
  
  
Arriving to her quarters from bridge duty the next night, the normality of the day jarring her from the previous night's trance, she prepared to leave for her meditating session. Moving past the entryway to her room, she glanced at the hastily started poem on her desk. She wondered what T'Pol would think of her inspiration as she picked it up. It wasn't finished yet, but after she meditated, she'd probably have an idea for the last verse of her poem, written in Vulcan.  
  
A few minutes later, she departed for T'Pol's quarters.  
  
The sound of the door rose T'Pol from the meditation mat. "Come in," she said evenly. Hoshi stepped in.  
  
"Ensign."  
  
"Hello, T'Pol," Hoshi smiled.  
  
"Are you ready to begin?"  
  
"As always, Sub-Commander."  
  
"Very well."  
  
They sat down opposite each other, facing a candle in the middle of the rug they sat on. T'Pol's words penetrated Hoshi's untrained mind quickly and T'Pol began to speak to her about calming the sea of her mind. Hoshi closed her eyes and listened, and the seas grew all the more angry. Hoshi concentrated harder, but her mind refused to yield.  
  
T'Pol snapped out of the meld. "We cannot continue if you refuse to concentrate," she said sharply.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Hoshi defensively.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Perhaps if you told Malcolm about the poem..." T'Pol started.  
  
Hoshi looked up, mouth open, eyes confused.  
  
"...then your mind would not be so clouded."  
  
"What are you saying...er..." She trailed off, trying to stall. "That I...wait, what are you saying?"  
  
"You wrote that poem with Malcolm in mind."  
  
Hoshi blushed furiously. "Is it possible I didn't know it at the time? Because I don't remember thinking anything about Malcolm when I was writing it..."  
  
"I believe so- it was not on the surface."  
  
"I didn't even know who I was writing that about, it was just a poem. I had this weird feeling-"  
  
"I know. I felt it when I looked in your subconscious. That is the only part of your mind that knew what you were doing last night, writing that poem. Have you ever been preoccupied because of an infatuation?"  
  
"Plenty of times."  
  
"That's the feeling it is, correct? And if you made known your feelings to Malcolm-"  
  
"How...how did you know that I had feelings for Malcolm? I tried to only open certain parts of my mind, like you told me..."  
  
"When your concentration faltered, and I could not get your full attention, I thought that the reason might reside only in your subconscious. I was right."  
  
"I hadn't realized till now I felt that way. What did you...think of my poem? Was that in my subconscious too?"  
  
"It was in the background. But I did not read it."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I had ascertained the reason for your distraction. That was my only purpose there."  
  
"Would you like to read it? I wrote it in Vulcan."  
  
"Perhaps tomorrow. 1200 hours, in the mess hall."  
  
"All right..."  
  
"I will be looking forward to it, Ensign. Goodbye."  
  
Hoshi, standing up to leave, spoke. "Thank you, T'Pol. You've been enlightening, as always."  
  
"You are welcome."  
  
Pleeze, oh please, send me feedback! I crave feedback! I cannot live without it! I post fanfic in the morning and sit at school all day, waiting desperately for the next time I can get on the net to check for reviews! I can't stand the disappointment any more! 


	3. ...And a Quiet Revelation.

The Tea Fumes Are Getting to Me- Part 3  
  
1200 hours, next day, mess hall  
  
The steam rose from the tea in a particularly exciting pattern of waves today, Hoshi observed. The sinus-clearing, warm mist rose into her nostrils in a way that made her think of the decon chamber. What a particularly exciting few hours that had been, she thought light-headedly. Maybe she should volunteer for the next away mission, maybe take a few tea packets, maybe bring extra for Malcolm. Maybe a lot of things.  
  
Her session with T'Pol had a stranger effect on her than usual. Or maybe it wasn't the mind meld, rather, the revealings of the day. She was feeling...giddy. Almost intoxicated. She smiled into her tea, raised to her lips. The next moment, she almost spit it out.  
  
"May I sit here?"  
  
The voice of the man of her subconscious jerked her from her tea-induced fantasy.  
  
"Er, sure," she said,  
  
"What's that you're working on?" Malcolm asked, innocently. She tried, inexplicably, to keep from exploding in laughter. If he only knew.  
  
"It's..."she began. She pursed her lips tightly, unpursed, and continued. "It's a poem."  
  
"A poem!" he said, smiling. "Can I read it, then?"  
  
"Ah...go ahead." She pushed it across the table nervously.  
  
He read silently for thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of held breath on the part of both the reader and the writer. Thirty seconds of a burning feeling in Hoshi's stomach, slowly creeping up into her throat, the nervousness clouding her thoughts. He lowered his hands slowly, not looking away from them.  
  
Hoshi's voice, almost a whisper, made him look up. "Well...?"  
  
His brown eyes stared up into hers, wide and intense. "Oh, Hoshi," he said quietly, sounding short of breath. "I adored the poem."  
  
There was a slight, discreet noise, and they looked up in unison to see T'Pol standing imperiously over them, expressionless.  
  
"Am I interrupting, officers?"  
  
There was no answer.  
  
"Perhaps we should confer later, Ensign."  
  
Hoshi stared up at the Vulcan. She spoke quietly, looking back at Malcolm.  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
T'Pol cleared her throat slightly, nodded, and turned. She swept by the table regally. Reaching the door in a few long strides, she looked back momentarily at the two seated at the table, still motionless, juts sitting there looking at each other. She was glad she had left as quickly as she had. The emotions hanging in the air were starting to be too much for her. Not to mention the tea fumes. 


End file.
